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    and clasped me round the neck This she was doing when

    on such a night—was through St Martin’s Lane Now, the church

    ‘Thankee Thankee, very kind, sir One thing furder I’m in

    us, my dear We must learn to act the play out We must live

    some hours, laid himself out to be polite and social He was the

    occasion, and the almost reverential manner in which he put away

    I was trying to familiarize my mind with the worst, and to

    over the garden-fence, and she came walking up to the door with a

    ‘But I wouldn’t so much as give it another thought,’ said

    I put in this, on the spur of the moment, warned by the blank

    All this I saw in the first glance after I crossed the threshold—

    Poor Peggotty lifted up her hands and eyes, and only answered,

    as to the greater expediency of my travelling by waggon The story

    and forks in, which, happily for mankind, are now obsolete

    ‘Do you know how mama is, Mr Peggotty?’ I said ‘And how my

    any condition of any sort or kind, though it stared him point-blank

    ‘Didn’t she, though!’ said Mr Barkis

    twenty thousand people would have heard him, one by one I

    quite a little landed estate Here, among pillows enough for six, I

    me for my condescension I could have wished he had been less

    occasion, being thrown down in the form of an advertisement, was

    David Copperfield

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    questions, that I could only sit and look at all the silent company,

    the house was shut up, to be let or sold God knows I had no part

        

    Copyright and clasped me round the neck This she was doing when